In  Memorial! 
James  Garfield. 


E 

687 
S26 


\  • 

V 

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JAMES  A.  GARFIELD, 


SONNETS  OF  SENSATION  AND  EVENT. 


I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 


BY  JOHN  SflVARY. 

GRADFATKI).  —  Williams  College,  1856. 
L.\rRKATKi).  —  Chickamauga,  September  20, 

XOMIXATKD.  —  Chicago,  fune  8,  1880. 

KI.ECTKD.  —  November  2,  1880. 

FELICITATED.  —  November  4,  1880. 

INAUGURATED.  —  March  4,  1881. 

ASSASSINATED.  —  July  2,  iSSi. 

COMPASSIONATED. 

RECUPERATED. 

RELAPSED. 

RECOVERED. 

CONORATUI.ATKD. 

AFTER  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  JULY  2D. 


JH 


I. 


WHEN  you  recall  the  faces  you  have  met 
At  school  or  college,  be  it  royal  George, 
Or  James,  or  Charles  who  is  remembered,  storge, 

Or  something  like  it  in  your  bosom  yet 

Stirs  for  a  moment  as  the  mind  is  set. 

You  struck  good  blows  in  earnest  at  the  forge 
Of  learning  stationed  in  that  mountain  gorge 

Spanned  by  the  rainbow  of  a  mild  regret  ! 

I  saw  you  then  a  great,  good-natured  boy, 

But  scarcely  dreamed  of  empire  in  your  brain. 
Yet  you  bear  rule,  and  dignities,  a  train  ; 

And  Alma  Mater  with  exceeding  joy 

Was  there  to  greet  you — but  the  horror  drops 
A  day  of  mourning  on  her  mountain  tops. 


II. 


tmtrenbit 


BAPTISKD  in  spirit,  and  also  in  fire, 

Must  that  man  be,  a  leader  of  the  flock, 

Born  for  affairs,  and  come  of  noble  stock, 
Innately  noble  like  your  great  grandsire 
At  Concord  Bridge,  who  helped  the  foe  retire. 

Sprung  from  such  loins,  of  course,  you  stood  the 
shock 

Of  battle  firm  as  Chickamauga's  Rock, l 
And  heard  God  speak  out  of  the  whirlwind  nigher. 
"  DULCE  ET  DECORUM," — you  learned  how  great 

The  idea  of  country,  and  the  laureled  meed. 
And  there,  I  think,  you  got  your  doctorate, 

Your  letters  patent,  worth's  true  title-deed, 
With  war's  red  seal  upon't,  and  stamped  by  fate  : 

Ah,  of  what  glorious  fruit  was  this  the  seed  ! 


i 


III. 


SUPERIOR  virtue  goes  among  the  crowd 

Unseen  at  all  times,  but  yet  not  unknown  ; 

For  in  a  thousand  ways  is  virtue  shown. 
With  vital  force  and  energy  endowed, 
It  draws  all  hearts  and  minds,  as  draws  the  cloud 

From  earth  to  heaven  the  bosomed  lightnings 
flown, 

Till  by  some  Power  to  full  effulgence  blown, 
The  godlike  man  steps  from  his  golden  shroud. 
From  depths  of  poverty  and  prenatal  gloom 

The  hero  comes  to  providential  view. 

The  shouting  thousands  at  Chicago  knew 
Garfield 2  was  for-the-field,  and  when  the  "  boom  " 

Started,  all  went — the  eagle3  flew,  and  he 

Perched  on  his  pole  like  winged  Victory. 


IN  equal  strength  arrayed,  when  two  great  powers 
On  battle  eve  give  challenge  and  reply, 
With  name  for  name  appealed  unto  the  sky, 

Victorious  counted  by  the  telling  Hours, 

Which  shall  be  foremost  in  this  land  of  ours  ? 
Answer,  O  People,  with  decisive  cry 
To  Chance,  the  game's  up  !  cease  to  spin  the  die 

Doubtful,  dispelling  the  dark  cloud  that  lowers  ! 

The  torch  lights  pale,  but  yet  the  welkin  rings 
Far  round  the  hills,  and  to  the  distant  coasts. 

A  tower  of  strength  is  Garfield's  name  which  brings 

The  thunder  of  the  shoutings  of  the  hosts. 
But  now  the  banners  of  the  chiefs  advance, 
(rod  send  the  country  safe  deliverance  ! 


iulnith. 


WHEN  to  the  summit  them  shalt  come  elect 
By  strenuous  toil,  and  by  the  golden  dower 
Of  hearts  and  hopes  to  blossom  in  an  hour 

Of  happy  fortune,  standing  there  erect 

Before  the  altar  sworn  with  due  respect 

To  consecrate  your  life's  best  fruit  and  flower. 
Remember  that  the  top  of  human  power 

In  prospect  green,  is  bald  in  retrospect. 

And  therefore  think  that  when  these  sugar-hearts 
That  lick  thee  now,  shall  melt  and  fall  away, 
L'nless  thou  bear  a  touchstone  in  thy  mind, 

Thou  shalt  become  a  prey  to  subtile  arts, 

And  find  not  friends,  but  flatterers  who  betray 
Thy  soul  to  bondage,  like  a  Samson  blind. 


WHY  doth  the  sun  with  so  presageful  glare 

This  wild  march  weather,  as  in  sorrow  drowned, 
Look  pale  with  grief  to  see  your  wishes  crowned  ? 

I  draw  this  omen  from  the  cloudy  chair 

Of  Phoebus  borne  to  a  serener  air  : 

The  course  of  your  administration  sound, 
Stormy  at  first,  shall  in  the  end  be  found 

Like  *  Freia's  day,  the  golden,  prosperous  fair. 

It  is  the  season  of  good  wishes  now  ; 

Then  welcome  in  the  name  of  all  the  people  ! 

The  while  they  bind  this  laurel  on  your  brow, 

The  cannon  speaks,  and  joy-bells  rock  the  steeple. 

Your  sails  are  set ;  and  fair  before  the  wind, 

Your  course  is  clear,  the  future  undefined. 


WAS  it  for  this,  dear  friend,  that  you  had  won 
By  toilsome  steps  your  way  to  place  and  power? 
For  this  you  climbed  above  the  clouds  that  lower 

With  lurid  tempest  in  the  rising  sun 

Of  lawful  sway,  and  wide  dominion  ? 

And  when  you  stood  at  the  consummate  flower 
Of  all  your  greatness,  in  an  evil  hour, 

The  shot  was  fired,  the  awful  deed  was  done  ! 

Esteem  thou  hadst  before,  O  steadfast  soul, 
But  now  thou  hast  thy  people's  love  in  fee. 

Cold  love  is  kindled  to  a  burning  coal 
In  living  heat  of  loyalty  to  ihee. 

And  if  the  People's  prayer  to  God  on  high 

Can  aught  avail,  dear  friend,  you  shall  not  die. 


•VIII. 


O,  what  a  week  of  fluctuant  hopes  and  fears  ! 
A  week,  indeed,  of  "  onsets  of  despair  !  " 
A  Nation  bowed  stands  in  the  wailing  air 

Of  windy  sighs  thick  blown  with  rainy  tears, 

Rumor,  and  prophecy  on  the  lips  of  seers. 
His  guardian  angel  with  a  brow  of  care, 
And  breasts  of  sorrow  leaning  o'er  him  there 

Gathers,  like  Winkelried,  death's  sheaf  of  spears  ! 

Hush  !   he  has  fallen  into  slumber  deep. 

Yet  his  lips  move  like  a  dark  mountain  stream 
Where  his  mind  wanders  in  the  world  of  dream 

That  babbles  softly  out  of  childhood's  sleep. 

"  We  are  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of,"  said 
The  sick  man  when  he  woke  refreshed  in  bed. 


How  hard,  in  health,  to  be  struck  down  and  lie 
All  weary  days  and  nights  on  bed  of  pain  ! 
Harder  for  him  of  the  large,  active  brain, 
And  social  nature  ;  yet,  with  quiet  eye 
Turned  on  the  pleasant  landscape  and  the  sky, 
He  hath  medicinal  aid,  and  not  in  vain, 
From  singing  leaves  and  plash  of  silver  rain, 
Soothed  by  low  winds  and  waters'  lullaby. 
Around  his  bed  good  angels  watch  and  wait. 
And  many  a  king  and  many  a  potentate 
Sends  kindly  message  from  beyond  the  sea. 
And  his  own  People  will  not  let  him  be 
Out  of  their  arms  of  love,  O  God  !   how  deep — 
The  blood-red  poppy  of  the  world  of  sleep  ! 


zx:. 


WHKN  to  the  orb  of  glory  and  of  light 

Comes  on  the  dark,  and  touches  with  its  lips 
The  body  of  brightness  dimming  as  it  dips 

Behind  the  planet's  artificial  night, 

The  boding  world  in  wonder  at  the  sight, 
Watches  the  shadow  as  it  moves  and  slips 
Over  the  land  and  sea  and  sailing  ships, 

In  mute  misgiving  of  each  moment's  flight. 

So  strange  to  our  perplexed  intelligence, 
Appeared  at  zenith-point  to  fade  and  fail 
The  light  of  that  recovered  star  through  veil 

Of  anxious  hope  and  fear  in  dim  suspense  ! 

We  saw  his  orb  from  which  the  dark  wave  slips, 
Notched  in  gray  shadow  of  the  great  eclipse. 


EASY  and  gradual  are  the  steps  that  lead 

Downward  to  death  and  steep  Tartarean   night  : 
.But  winning  upward  to  the  realms  of  light, 

Is  toilsome,  hard,  and  difficult  indeed. 

Well  knows  he  this,  who,  versed  in  Virgil's  rede, 
Towards  recovery  sets  his  staff  aright, 
And  gathering  strength5  goes  on  to  make  the  fight, 

Like  gaining  tides  that  inch  by  inch  succeed  ! 

()  lofty  hope  and  energy  of  will  ! 

O  living  spirit  of  the  lord  of  breath  ! 
Hark  to  the  People's  million-throated  roll 

Of  thunderous  welcome  to  their  hero  ill 

Who  "  takes  the  chance,"  and  giving  odds  to  Death, 
Beats  the  lean  fellow  racing  to  the  goal  ! 


BSj  £T\ 

-   ^  fe 


Smtjrahtfobh. 


How  many  and  how  great  concerns  of  state- 
Lie  at  the  mercy  of  the  meanest  things  ! 
This  man  the  peer  of  presidents  and  kings, 

Nay,  first  among  them,  passed  through  danger's  gate 

In  war  unscathed,  and  perils  out  of  date, 
To  meet  a  fool  whose  pistol-shot  yet  rings 
Around  the  world,  and  at  mere  greatness  flings 

The  cruel  sneer  of  destiny  or  fate  ! 

Yet  hath  he  made  the  fool  fanatic  foil 
To  valor,  patience,  nobleness,  and  wit  ! 
Nor  had  the  world  known  but  because  of  it 

What  virtues  grow  in  suffering's  sacred  soil. 
The  shot  which  opened  like  a  crack  of  hell, 
Made  all  hearts  stream  with  sacred  pity's  well, 

And  showed  that  unity  in  which  we  dwell. 


of 


EXCITEMENT  ?  no  ;  but  absolute  surprise  : 
Astonishment  that  struck  through  all  a  hush 

Of  grim  expectancy  whose  shadow  lies 

On  men  like  standing  wood  before  the  rush 

Of  roaring  rain,  with  coming  darkness,  all 
Suddenly  upon  the  people  a  great  calm 

Of  perfect  horror  settled  like  a  pall. 

Such  calms  precede  a  tempest,  and  forebode 

The  lightning's  flash  and  the  deep  thunder's  roll. 
And  had  there  been  a  demagogue  to  goad 

The  waiting  populace,  the  dark-rising  soul 
Of  ignorant  ''  thunderheads  "  heaved  up  for  warm 

A^engeance  at  bloody  work — he  might  have  shook 
From  turret  to  foundation  stone  the  form 

Of  stable  government  ; — but  there  was  no  storm. 


^-- 


1  A  sobriquet  for  "  Old  Pap  Thomas.'' 

2  Tlie  Rev.    E.    N.   Mauley,  a  classmate  of  General   Garlield 
wrote,  "  I  think  it  was  at  the  breaking-up  meeting  of  the  class, 
at  graduation,  that  being  called    up  for  a  speech,  he  said  "  yap 
is  a  greek   particle   meaning  for.       Gar-field,  for-the-field,  that 
is  what  I  suppose  I  am." 

:!  It  was  reported  in  the  papers  at  the  time,  and  generally 
believed,  that  an  eagle  alighted  on  the  ridge-pole  of  General 
Gartield's  house  in  Washington,  just  about  the  time  his  nomina- 
tion was  made  known. 

4  Friday,  or  Freia's  day,  is  from   Freyja,  the  Northern  Venus. 

5  See  motto  on  title  page. 


This  brochure,  all  but  the  close,  was  in  print  some  weeks 
ago,  and  while  there  was  yet  a  firm  hope  of  the  President's 
recovery.  But  "man  proposes,  God  disposes."  Hence,  to 
those  sonnets  written  in  the  light  of  hope,  and  put  forth  on  the 
assurance  of  recovery,  are  added  these  of  commemoration, 
written  under  the  cypress,  and  closing  with  the  inevitable  VAI.E. 

SEPTEMBER  20,  1881. 


To  all  the  earth  which  hears  with  holden  breath, 
What  endless  sorrow  in  a  word  can  dwell  ! 
The  human  heart  ingathering  as  a  shell 

The  murmured  news  in  mournful  whisper  saith, 

This  is  the  end,  yea,  verily,  this  is  death. 
There  is  no  time  his  virtues  here  to  tell, 
But  only  time  to  sob  a  brief  farewell, 

And  leave  him  in  the  Hand  that  welcometh. 

We  loved  him,  we  Americans,  because 
He  was  of  us  a  genuine  man  of  men  ; 

The  strong  protagonist  of  equal  laws, 

And  more  than  once  our  standard-bearer  when 

The  country's  ark  was  covered  with  a  cloud 

Which  turns  to  glory  now  to  make  his  shroud. 


Build  him  no  monument  of  lasting  date, 
Enduring  brass  or  marble,  but  record 
That  when  he  passed  from  earth  to  his  reward, 

His  people  still  the  bread  of  sorrow  ate, 

And  all  the  land  in  tears  was  desolate  ! 

How  the  red  hand  of  murder  most  abhorred 
Wrote  large  his  name  and  virtues  in  the  Lord. 

Sublime  in  sufferance,  and  serenely  great! 

He  o'er  himself  was  na'uiral  priest  and  king. 
A  royal  soul  which  budded  on  the  stem 
Of  simple  manhood  wore  the  diadem 

Of  love  and  reverence  due — no  other  thing. 

His  large  good  nature,  love,  and  life  and  health, 
Will  perish  never  from  the  commonwealth. 


Yak 


Fallen  is  the  first  and  chief: 
Oh  !  but  our  hearts  are  full  of  grief. 
Bowed  in  silence,  stand  and  wait 
Where  he  lies  in  lofty  state. 
Who  hath  any  words  to  say  ? 
Grief  is  eloquent  to-day. 
On  the  door-knob  put  no  crape, 
But  your  hearts  in  mourning  drape. 
Death  lifts  up  the  portal  bar, 
Droop  the  flag  and  dress  the  car. 
Slowly  move  in  sad  array, 
Bring  him  on  his  last  long  way. 
The  veiled  cities  see  him  pass, 
Bow  their  heads  and  cry  alas  ! 
Useless,  useless,  toll  no  bell, 
He  is  better — in  fact,  well. 
Healed  of  all  his  hurts  and  scars, 
Honorably  discharged  from  wars. 
He  is  sleeping,  uu't-  you  see ; 
Wake  him  not !  Oh,  let  him  be  ; 


His  part  is  played,  his  life  is  done, 

His  fight  is  fought,  and  rest  is  won. 

States  and  cities  leave  to  show, 

All  the  pageantries  of  woe. 

As  the  Nation's  honored  chief, 

Bury  him  with  public  grief. 

Ah,  but  there  is  grief  more  deep, 

There  are  wounds  no  balm  can  steep. 

(Can  one  wretched  life  atone 

For  this  wrong  to  Nature  done?) 

Words  that  cut  like  a  sharp  knife, 

Farewell,  mother  ;   farewell,  wife  ! 

Fro/en  tears  give  no  relief, 

You  shall  live  in  marble  grief. 

In  our  annals,  such  another 

Son  and  husband,  wife,  and  mother 

Grouped  together,  time  ne'er  saw  ; 

And  the  world  that  looks  with  awe 

On  you  looking  up  to  God, 

Kneeling  there  upon  the  sod, 

Hears  a  voice  from  Heaven,  "well  done  : 

"Enter,  my  beloved  son. 

Be  at  peace,  and  shine  afar, 

'  And  I  will  give  him  the  Morning  Star.  " 


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